


small figures in a vast expanse

by sylvianorth



Series: we should become more adventurous [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cults, Dirtbag Kraglin Obfonteri, Ego is a jerk, Gen, M/M, Parent Kraglin Obfonteri, Recovery, Reluctant parent/big brother Kraglin Obfonteri, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, aka kraglin on the verge of a nervous breakdown, anachronisms abound!, emotional blowjobs, emotional breakdown, kraglin is trying very hard, what year is it we just dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvianorth/pseuds/sylvianorth
Summary: The reception sucks in the basement, but he can make out Yondu’s pissed off voice and “water up to my knees” and “call from the school” and “principal” and, of course the word he’d been waiting for: “Quill.”





	small figures in a vast expanse

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY this one got away from me lol. It's basically two fics in one that I mashed together with all the grace of a lidless blender. It's the """""""sequel"""" to "we want spectacular views" that no one wanted or asked for and basically was written because I love Mantis and wanted to shoehorn her in somehow. This is actually the heavily edited version bc I'm a MESS and was like elbow deep in this bad boy before trimming it down. It's haphazard and weird and bloated and I'm sorry.
> 
> Title from the Rilo Kiley song of the same name.

Kraglin’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he debates throwing it out the window and flinging himself out after it. The window is cracked despite the rain, on the fourth floor with a cement walkway under it. If he hurries, he could slide right out, angle himself properly and drop, cracking his head open and ideally dying on impact. His head is killing him. It would be a relief.

Next to him, Peter pops his gum obnoxiously. “She usually doesn’t make us wait this long,” he says. “This is a total power move.”

Kraglin rubs his temple. Despite the mild temperature in the building, he’s shivering so violently that the water is splashing over the sides of his paper cup. His nose is running again and he grabs another tissue off the desk. “Her secretary said she was in another meeting and that it might be a bit.” His voice is hoarse and he clears his throat, hacking and spitting into the trash bin.

“Nah, she’s totally power tripping. She’s showing you who’s boss.”

On Kraglin’s opposite side, Mantis lets out another ragged sob and Kraglin hands her the box of tissues. The fluorescent lights in the office combined with the loud whir and hum of the copy machine in the hall outside are making his headache ten times worse. Idly, he wonders how many other parents have neck tattoos.

“You smell terrible, by the way,” Peter adds, as an afterthought.

“Thanks, Pete.”

“You look like hell, too.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Mantis looks up from throwing away her pile of used tissues and gives Kraglin a watery smile. “Happy anniversary, Kraglin.” Her chin wobbles dangerously. “S – sorry Peter and I blew it,” and she dissolves into tears, covering her face with her hands.

Through another coughing fit, Kraglin manages to choke out, “’s fine, Mantis, please don’t cry.”

The phone buzzes again. His head is pounding.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

It was very late summer when Mantis entered their lives, six years after they brought in Peter. It had taken her around six months to find her footing in her new life, which Kraglin figured was fair. 

He could only imagine what it must be like growing up under a mass murdering, megalomaniacal cult leader.

Peter took a week off school after the whole Ego business before he decided to go back. “It keeps me busy,” he’d said when Kraglin asked if he needed more time. “Otherwise, I just think about it all and you know…” he trailed off and shrugged.

Kraglin knew.

Truth be told, part of Kraglin wanted to withdraw the boys from school entirely, and Drax and Gamora and Nebula too for good measure, and hole them all up in the house and barricade the doors and windows and keep them all safe and protected, but he knew how stupid that was, that he couldn’t protect them forever and that Yondu would…

He couldn’t think about Yondu.

So instead he told the boys to stay on school grounds and always come straight home after and he was pretty sure it was the one rule he ever implemented that they actually followed.

With Peter, Groot and Rocket all in school, Kraglin took Mantis with him to work. Tullk had given him that sad, pitying look when Kraglin said he was coming back and offered to take over the store for a bit but Kraglin insisted. He had to get out of the house and distract himself.

He wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

He brought Mantis along with him because he was afraid to leave her alone and refused to acknowledge Stakar’s offer for help (although he didn’t didn't decline when Stakar said he would pay for the medical bills and didn’t meet Kraglin’s gaze – Kraglin was proud but he wasn’t stupid) and didn’t want to leave her with one of his friends, so for four months while Kraglin ran the pawn shop, Mantis wandered around and admired everything and helped with inventory and sat behind the counter and read. He took her to the public library and let her check out whatever she found interesting because he didn’t know how to help someone who grew up in another world like she did. He thought Yondu would know and immediately pushed that thought away and suggested a book about ancient queens, which she tucked under her arm.

Mantis liked fairy tales and biographies and books about animals and Barrie and Carroll. When it was quiet at the store, she would read to him, her voice cheerful and steady, and she took Kraglin’s mind off everything and Kraglin wanted to wrap her in blankets and keep her close and protect her forever.

“Do you believe in the big bang theory?” Mantis asked abruptly one day. She was reading a kid’s science textbook and Kraglin was making change for the till. The sun was coming in slanted through the venetian blinds, making stripes on the ground.

He shrugged. “Dunno. I guess I do.” Kraglin truly hadn’t given it much thought.

“This book talks about it,” Mantis said. Then: “Ego didn’t believe in it.” Here, Kraglin winced, reflexive, like he always did when Ego was brought up, but Mantis kept talking, “He said that the gods created the world and that then they made him to take care of it. He said he would lead us to a better future and that we were his chosen ones.” She furrowed her brow. “Ego lied a lot, didn’t he?”

Kraglin nodded and closed the till softly with his hip. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Because he was.

“Why did he lie?” she asked, closing her book and folding her hands. Her mouth was pursed in concentration.

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Kraglin answered, helpless. He wished he had the answers. He was the adult, for fuck’s sake, he should know, but he didn’t and he was tired and his voice cracked when he spoke. “Sometimes people do things that don’t make sense to anyone but them. I wish I could tell you more’n that.”

Mantis nodded. Her shoulders sagged a little, like she was taking on his sadness. Kraglin ruffled her hair a little and forced himself to smile. “Let’s go do inventory of the DVDs. I’ll hook up the TV and we can watch one that looks interesting.”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Their anniversary is important.

It wasn’t always, but when you and the love of your life carry out the world’s most idiotic, batshit insane (but successful, which Yondu always stressed whenever he felt Kraglin was getting too maudlin) rescue mission, you tend to look at stupid, sentimental shit differently.

They plan on having loud, dirty sex the night before and taking off the day of to sleep in and probably have sleepy morning sex and walk around in their underwear, so Yondu tells the kids to spend the night Drax’s so that they can “celebrate in private” which was his polite way of saying that they were going to fuck, nastily and noisy, probably all night and most of the next day, and that they would be wise to stay the hell away.

“Like we don’t hear you all the time anyway,” Rocket scoffs, “You guys are _loud_.”

“I doubt one night at Drax’s is going to do much for our combined trauma caused by constantly hearing you two go at it,” Peter adds.

Yondu chuckles and pats Peter on the head. “Boy, unless you want a front row seat to the worst psychological scarring of your life, you’d better be the hell out of here tomorrow night.”

Peter makes a face but arranges for himself, Groot and Rocket to stay at Drax’s. Mantis opts to stay with Gamora and Nebula.

The next night, they close the store an hour early and Yondu tells Tullk that under no circumstances are they to be bothered tomorrow and slings an arm across Kraglin’s shoulders, pulling him in close as they go to the car.

They run a hot bath and Kraglin rolls a joint that they pass back and forth. The steam fills the room and clings to the mirror and window and the pot makes them relaxed and easily amused. Under the water, the scar that runs from Yondu’s sternum to a few inches under his navel is wavy and distorted.

“C’mere, baby,” Yondu says, pulling Kraglin into his lap. They kiss, sweet and lazy, Yondu’s hand fisting in Kraglin’s wet hair, nosing the underside of Kraglin’s jaw and Kraglin rides Yondu slow with his arms wrapped loosely around Yondu’s neck, leaning forward, their lips brushing the entire time, never really separating. He bumps their foreheads together and Yondu breathes endearments against Kraglin’s mouth.

After, they drain the dirty water, rinse off and eat dinner (steaks, rare, and Yondu comments that one of the benefits of kicking the kids out of the house was only having to cook for two) while sprawled naked in bed, door open, sharing a bottle of whiskey. 

Kraglin drops their plates on the floor and straddles Yondu’s hips, kissing from his mouth down to his stomach. He drags his lips over the scar, ugly and gnarled and fish belly white, while pushing Yondu’s knees up to his chest. Yondu holds himself open so Kraglin can eat him out nice and slow, sucking his cock while opening him up using nimble fingers and making Yondu plead and whine. Kraglin knows that despite all Yondu’s posturing, he likes it and he wants Yondu to like it, wants it to be good for him. So he takes his time licking him open and scissoring his fingers before he finally slides in like Yondu’s made of butter. Kraglin is gentle and takes his time and Yondu’s eyes roll back and he breathes hard and mutters nonsense in Kraglin’s ear and Kraglin eats him out again after he comes inside, lapping at him and cleaning him while Yondu arches off the bed, toes curling.

They lounge in bed for a few more hours watching TV and Kraglin nurses the bottle of whiskey, his head tucked under Yondu’s chin. Yondu strokes his hair and back, rubbing circles in between Kraglin’s shoulder blades before they start kissing again, rolling to lay on their sides facing each other and rutting together like horny teenagers, Yondu gripping the meat of Kraglin’s ass hard enough to bruise and biting his lower lip while Kraglin takes them both in his hand and beats them off before they come, exhausted, and Kraglin drapes himself over Yondu’s belly. He has a few sneezing fits which he attributes to a dusty ceiling fan and he feels feverish and sleepy which he attributes to the drinking and screwing.

He passes out on top of Yondu, snoring and drooling on his chest.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“I would like to cut my hair,” Mantis announced one day over dinner.

They were eating a vegetable soup Groot made, sitting around the table mutely when she broke the silence. Everyone blinked as though coming out of a daze.

“Like this,” Mantis clarified and held up a magazine with a picture of Mia Farrow with her pixie cut in _Rosemary’s Baby_. “Ego never let us cut our hair. I would like a change.”

“If Kraglin can have a stupid mohawk at his age, you should be able to cut your hair,” Rocket said. Groot nodded in agreement, smiling at Mantis.

“Better than the mess Quill’s got on his head,” Kraglin muttered.

Peter shook his overlong bangs out of his eyes and gave Kraglin the finger.

“I like your hair,” Mantis told Kraglin with a smile. “I think it fits you. And yours, Peter. May I get a haircut?”

“Ain’t up to me to control what you do to your hair,” Kraglin shrugged. “Just make an appointment.”

“Oh, that is such a load of crap. When _I_ wanted to get a mohawk when I was ten, Yondu – ” Peter stopped his grousing instantly, eyes wide. Everyone sort of froze and stared at him, as though the mention of Yondu’s name were an unexploded bomb on the table. He cleared his throat. “I got laughed at,” he finished lamely.

“To be fair, you probably would’ve looked dumb as shit.” Rocket’s words came out without emotion. Groot was crying, tears dripping into his soup.

Kraglin stood and dropped his bowl in the sink. He had barely eaten anything. “I’m gonna shower. Don’t worry about the dishes.”

He stood in the blistering hot stream of water for what felt like ages and scrubbed at his skin until it was tender and pink, like maybe he could shed it all off like a snake and become a different person with a different life.

 _The wound is infected,_ the doctors said, _it doesn’t look good_ and Kraglin pushed the thought out by pulling at his hair when he washed it.

He tried jerking off to give himself some relief but all he could see when he closed his eyes was Yondu, small in his white bed with tubes everywhere, and he wrapped himself in a towel and sat on the toilet in the steam, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging his knees.

The black tattoo circling his left ring finger jumped out at him and he started picking at it like it would peel off like a sticker on an apple. All it did was bleed.

The kids were quiet that evening, keeping their voices low and went to bed early. Kraglin checked on them after an hour and they were long under the covers. He wondered when that had happened, when they’d gotten so long. He doubled-checked the locks like he did every night because even though Ego was dead (Yondu had made damn sure of that), he still worried.

He slept on the couch those days because he knew that if he crawled into his bed, _their_ bed, he’d curl up on Yondu’s side and bury his face in the pillow and breathe in his smell and never leave. So he watched mindless TV until he fell asleep, infomercials and evangelicals and re-runs of old sitcoms and he dreamed of fire and Yondu’s blood on his hands and Yondu’s face and Mantis shook him until he woke, her eyes big and scared.

“You were dreaming,” she told him quietly. She was kneeling next to him in her pajamas, her blankets tangled around her waist. Rocket was curled up in the armchair and Peter and Groot were sleeping on the floor. “You were dreaming of them. Peter dreams of them too. So do I.”

“’s my fault,” Kraglin muttered. His face was wet, sweat and tears mingling. He swiped at it furiously. “I worked with Ego at first. Helped him recruit people. They’d still be alive if it weren’t for me.”

Mantis frowned. “But you saved Peter. You saved me. That’s something. You cannot blame yourself for the actions of others.”

“Maybe,” Kraglin sighed and looked at the floor. “Why’re you all out here?”

“We wanted to be close to you. We are all feeling badly. Peter is sorry he brought up Yondu at dinner.”

Kraglin just shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about Yondu because that road led to the hospital and IVs and a steady beeping and frowning doctors which would eventually lead to madness, and he couldn’t be mad at a fourteen-year-old kid who missed his father, so he sat up and said, “You can have the couch, girlie, I’ll take the floor.” When Mantis gave him an apprehensive look, he said, “’s fine, I promise. Floor’s better for my back anyway.”

He stayed awake until he was sure Mantis was asleep and curled up next to Peter before dropping back off.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Kraglin wakes up when the bed moves underneath him. He digs his nails in hard and hears a hiss and a “what the _fuck_ , Krag, let go” and he realizes it’s Yondu shifting away from him.

He only has time to register the sound of Yondu’s phone ringing before a wave of nausea hits and he stumbles into the bathroom and barely makes it to the toilet before he vomits. Between the retching, he can hear Yondu swearing and moving around in their room and when he’s done, he collapses on the floor, shivering. It’s early, dawn creeping in through the window and the floor is cold beneath him. He tries to move but his muscles ache. Maybe he can ask Yondu to bring him a blanket and a pair of underwear.

“Pipe burst at the store,” Yondu calls from the other room. “Tullk says the basement is almost – what the fuck is wrong with you?” He walks in and nudges Kraglin’s prone form with his toe, snorting. “You alive down there, sweetheart?”

“Cold,” Kraglin murmurs. “Blanket.” He shivers again, coughing.

Yondu crouches next to him and feels his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he frowns. “Krag, if you get me sick…” he warns.

Kraglin cracks one eye at him. “Had my tongue down your throat and in your ass last night, jackass,” he mutters, “Trust me, you’re gonna get sick. ‘m amazed you’re not right now.” His stomach heaves again and he tries to vomit but all that comes out is stomach acid, so he spits in the toilet and falls back down on the floor.

Yondu huffs out an irritated breath and scoops Kraglin into his arms, holding him bridal style. “Asshole,” he grumbles while he tucks Kraglin back into bed. Kraglin curls up on Yondu’s side, hugging his pillow and pulling the blankets over his head. “Uh-uh, back to your side,” Yondu says, slapping Kraglin on the ass. Kraglin stays put, burrowing deeper and pressing his face into the pillow. “Don’t get any of your sick shit on my shit, understand?” Yondu bitches and Kraglin makes a soft noise in the affirmative, sighing contentedly when Yondu throws another blanket over him. He listens while Yondu gets dressed and wanders around the house, dozing a little until he feels Yondu squeezing his shoulder and shaking him. “I’m going to the store.” He slides one hand under the covers to feel Kraglin’s forehead again and grimaces. “I left a puke bucket on the floor for you. If you puke in the bed, especially on my side and _especially_ on my pillow, you’re out on your ass.”

Kraglin gives him a weak thumbs up and closes his eyes.

“Try not to die,” Yondu says after a moment. Kraglin hears him zip up his jacket before pulling the blankets down again and giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

Twenty minutes after Yondu leaves, Kraglin throws up into the bucket and collapses back on the bed, shivering. There’s a mug of lukewarm green tea on the nightstand that he guzzles before throwing it up.

He dozes fitfully for a few hours until his phone buzzes and he cracks one eye to see the screen light up with “INCOMING CALL FROM: Yondu (tongue emoji) (eggplant emoji) (heart emoji).” He unlocks it and murmurs, “Can you pick up some more tea on the way home?”

The reception sucks in the basement, but he can make out Yondu’s pissed off voice and “water up to my knees” and “call from the school” and “principal” and, of course the word he’d been waiting for: “Quill.”

“So?” Kraglin tucks the covers under his chin. Two of the cats are sleeping against his back and another one is sprawled across his feet. He’s so warm.

Yondu must have left the basement because the reception is perfect when he says, “I need you to go talk to the principal.” When Kraglin coughs to remind him that he’s sick, he can hear Yondu’s glare through the phone. “I’m balls deep in water and mold down here, you little shit, you wanna haul your bony ass down here and deal with this instead?” Kraglin doesn’t respond. “Then go and deal with whatever the hell Quill did. It won’t take you more than an hour. Then you can go back home and lay in bed and piss and moan and jerk off.”

Kraglin grumbles to himself as he gets dressed, pulling on a long-sleeved thermal, a flannel shirt and his leather jacket and adding a stocking cap because he thinks he’s going to freeze to death and pops several aspirin. The cats watch him curiously from the couch as he shudders and curses his way out the front door and into the car. It’s pouring rain and every squeak of the windshield wipers makes his headache worse.

He’s only set foot in the high school once and it was to take Groot a textbook he’d forgotten, so he stumbles blindly around before seeing the sign for the offices.

“I’m here about Peter Quill,” he wheezes, coughing into his elbow.

The secretary frowns and offers him a cup of water which he accepts gratefully. “They’re just through there,” she says, pointing at a door. “Ms. Rael is in another meeting, she’ll be with you shortly.”

Before Kraglin can wonder who “they” are, he walks in the room and sees Peter slouching in one of the chairs, thumbing through his Literature textbook and Mantis wringing her hands next to him.

Peter grins at him. “Hey, Kraglin.”

Mantis promptly bursts into tears.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Mantis was watching Kraglin throw his knife at a makeshift target he propped up against the fence with fascination.

“How did you learn to do that?” she asked after he stuck his fifth bullseye. It was near dusk but it was still warm. She was wearing Peter’s old flannel shirt and jeans, grass stained and torn in the knee.

He shrugged, pulling the knife free. “Practice. I’ve never been good at much except for this.” He walked back several feet, aimed and threw it. It hit just outside the bullseye and he swore under his breath.

“I think you are good at lots of things,” Mantis protested. When he didn’t respond, she went on. “You get upset with me when I talk badly about myself, so I am going to start being upset with you when you do the same.”

“It’s different with me,” Kraglin said. “I’m a fuck up and you ain’t.”

“You should stop saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

Groot came out to get them for dinner. Kraglin wasn’t hungry but it would be dark shortly and he soon wouldn’t be able to see his target. Besides, he liked keeping everyone close at night.

Rocket was listening to one of Peter’s tapes in the kitchen when they came in. He dropped a piece of pizza onto everyone’s plate. “Quill’s upstairs,” he said, and raised his eyebrows at Kraglin meaningfully.

“You need to talk to him,” Mantis pleaded. “Please? He was there with you. He feels awful.”

Kraglin looked to Groot for support, but all Groot did was nod along with them, staring at Kraglin with his big eyes.

Kraglin had barely been able to look at Peter beyond what was necessary the last few weeks. Whenever he did, all the guilt and anger and resentment bubbled up in his gut and he was terrified it would come spilling out of his mouth. He knew it was wrong, knew that it wasn’t Peter’s fault, that Peter was just a teen, a _kid_ , but it was a small comfort when Yondu was barely clinging to life in the hospital, hanging on by a thread.

Peter wasn’t in the room he shared with Rocket and Groot, and for a moment, Kraglin wondered if he’d left the house and felt an icy trickle of fear down his spine, before he saw that the door to his room (his and Yondu’s, he reminded himself, he’s not dead) was cracked and when he peeked in, he saw Peter laying on the bed.

Kraglin had barely been in the room since Yondu was gone. He kept his clothes downstairs and averted his eyes whenever he walked through to use the master shower. It was easier to scrub Yondu’s presence from the bathroom than the bedroom.

“Sorry,” Peter said, sitting up and looking sheepish. “I came in here to get… something and I just laid down for a second. I’ll go.”

“I don’t care,” Kraglin said. He put the plate down on top of the dresser and couldn’t stand the stupid figurines that stared back at him. He wanted to sweep them all into the trash. “It’s quiet in here. Rocket heated up a frozen pizza. If you don’t want to eat it, that’s fine. We can take it in our lunches tomorrow.” None of them had much of an appetite lately.

Peter’s face and eyes were red and shiny and he rubbed at his nose. For the first time since Ego, Kraglin really stared at him. He looked smaller and thinner and duller, like all the light had been snuffed out of him. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. “It was all my fault.”

“Pete…” Kraglin sighed.

“And now you hate me.”

“Only when you play that ‘Hooked On A Feeling’ song,” Kraglin joked weakly.

“Ha ha,” Peter muttered, laying back down, curled on his side.

Kraglin laid down next to him so they were face to face. He wondered how often he and Yondu had done this, just laid there and talked about bullshit. The thought made his chest constrict. “Pete, I’m twenty-nine. Me and Yondu have been together since I was eighteen. I’m too young to – ” His voice wavered and caught in his throat and he coughed and blinked several times. His eyes were burning. “I’m young and I’m scared too and I don’t know what I’m doing. I been with Yondu so long that I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself but I’m trying real hard, okay? I don’t hate you.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Peter’s voice was quiet. He sounded hurt.

A million reasons flitted through Kraglin’s mind and he thought about his answer for a long time. _Because a part of me blames you. Because Yondu chose you over me. Because I don’t know if I wouldn’t give you up for him. Because I want to kill myself and the only thing keeping me from doing it is because he’s still alive._ “Because I’m a dick,” was what he settled on. He hoped it was enough.

Peter snorted a little. “Yeah,” he agreed. “A dick with awful breath.” Kraglin blew on him, making him groan. “Ugh, gross, dude. You need to quit smoking.” They were quiet for a minute before Peter went suddenly serious and asked, “So what are we gonna do?”

“You’re either going to eat that pizza or put it in the fridge so I can take it in my lunch tomorrow,” Kraglin yawned. He was too tired to have a serious discussion.

“’m not hungry.” Peter was yawning now too. “Remember when I used to sleep here with you guys?”

“Vividly.”

“I miss it sometimes.”

“I don’t.”

Peter gave him the finger and Kraglin managed a smile, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. He was just about to nod off when the door opened and Groot, Rocket and Mantis came in and piled onto the bed with them, Rocket next to Peter and Mantis next to Kraglin with Groot in the middle, beaming. “Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine,” Rocket whined.

“Adult responsibilities mean adult beds with comfy mattresses,” Kraglin said. He closed his eyes. Mantis was warm next to him and he could hear Groot’s breathing even out.

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t remember his dreams.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“So, I’m a little confused about the soup.”

“Oh, Mantis threw soup,” Peter explains.

“I _know_. I just don’t know why.”

“Because I had it in my hand.”

Kraglin is going to kill himself. “ _Why_ did you throw the soup?”

Mantis’s lower lip trembles dangerously. “Because Ayesha was mean to Nebula!”

“And Pete, you set a kid’s backpack on fire?”

“They can’t prove it was me. But off the record, I was technically responsible for Ronan’s backpack fire incident, yes.”

Kraglin’s phone buzzes again. Yondu has texted him three times, two making sure he’s at the school and one with an update on the flood.

Peter exercises his usual lack of boundaries and looks over his shoulder. “Ugh, those emojis for Yondu’s name are gross, dude. Aren’t you supposed to be an adult?” He grabs Kraglin’s phone to show Mantis. “Mantis, hey, look at this. Isn’t that gross?”

Mantis wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her too-big sweater. “Aw, look at the heart. That’s not gross.”

“What happened with Ayesha and Nebula?” Kraglin asks, desperate to stay on track. He covers a cough with his arm.

“Ayesha and her friends got in a fight with Nebula in math, and at lunch, they cornered her and Mantis panicked and threw soup to break it up. Rocket got a video of it and sent it to me.” Peter is going through Kraglin’s phone now. Kraglin wonders if he should take it back or let him find the nude photos and videos of himself and Yondu and learn his lesson. Peter makes the decision for him. “You’ve got a lot of cat pictures – ” The teen suddenly goes silent and red-faced and hands Kraglin back his phone, not looking him in the eye. “I probably deserved that,” he says after a moment. “But also I don’t know why you would have a video of… that. I didn’t even think the body could bend like that, let alone Yondu’s.” His hands are suddenly very interesting as he stares down at them.

Kraglin chuckles and fires off a text to Yondu. _at school rn waiting for principal pete set a backpack on fire for some reason mantis got in a fight w/ that ayesha chick ill be there to clean up the store basement tomorrow if im not still DYING_. He puts his phone back in his pocket and blows his nose again.

“Did you tell Yondu about Ayesha?” Mantis’s voice is timid.

“He was either going to find out from me or Rocket would show him the video,” Kraglin says. He’s actually interested in the video. He’ll have to ask Rocket about it later.

Mantis lets out a wail and covers her face with her hands. “Now he is going to get rid of me,” she sobs.

Peter and Kraglin exchange a look. “Mantis, no one’s getting rid of you,” Kraglin tells her gently. He strokes the back of her head. “Mantis, c’mon. We haven’t gotten rid of anybody, why would we start with you when Pete is right there?”

Peter gives him the finger and adds, “Mantis, how many times have I fucked up? Like a zillion. This won’t even be a blip on Yondu’s radar of fuck ups.”

“Ego said that children must behave or the parents would divorce and get rid of them,” Mantis explains tearfully. “And you two got in a fight the other night and now I did this and we’re falling apart.”

Kraglin struggles to remember the fight with Yondu. It was over the broccoli in the vegetable garden. It wasn’t growing properly and for some reason, Yondu decided it was Kraglin’s fault. It was a par for the course fight – shouting, wild accusations and name calling for about an hour before they realized how stupid it was and laughed about it. Kraglin had honestly forgotten all about it until she brought it up.

“Mantis, they’re not going to divorce,” Peter says. “Can you imagine Kraglin finding a new boyfriend or girlfriend? He’ll die alone.”

“Me? I’m only thirty-one. What about Yondu? He’s pushing fifty,” Kraglin whines.

“He’d be fine.”

“Peter is just saying that because he has a crush on Yondu,” Mantis tells Kraglin brightly.

The room goes silent. Peter flushes a mottled purple and mutters, “Mantis, c’mon, dude, I told you that in private.”

Kraglin’s laugh turns into an ugly cackle and then a hacking cough and he spits mucus into the garbage can. “Ain’t he a little old for you, Pete?” he asks, taking a sip of water.

“He’s a little old for you, too,” Peter counters hotly, which Kraglin acknowledges is probably fair. They met and started screwing around when Kraglin was barely eighteen and become more or less exclusive just before his nineteenth birthday, adopting Peter when Kraglin was twenty-three and tying the knot (for tax reasons, Yondu had stressed, but Kraglin knew better) when he was twenty-five. However, Kraglin isn’t about to grant Peter that point.

“Does Gamora know you’re cheating on her?” he asks instead, knowing full-well that Peter and Gamora aren’t actually dating, which is a constant thorn in Peter’s side. When Peter refuses to respond, Kraglin just snickers to himself. “You’re a mess.”

“Please don’t tell Yondu.”

“Oh, I’m gonna tell Yondu.”

“I will tell Yondu,” Mantis volunteers.

Peter makes a strangled noise.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

After three weeks of uncertainty and the entire household living in a constant state of frayed nerves, Yondu woke up.

The hospital phoned Kraglin at home when he and Rocket were trying to fix the microwave.

“He keeps drifting in and out,” the doctor said, and Kraglin’s heart almost beat its way out of his chest, “But he’s stable. He keeps asking about you and Peter. If you’d like to come down, we can’t guarantee that he’ll stay awake, but – ”

Kraglin hung up on her and drove everyone to the hospital, chain smoking on the way over. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Peter, Rocket and Groot all sprinted to Yondu’s room and Kraglin wanted to run too, but Mantis insisted on holding his hand and hanging back. She was terrified and kept squeezing his fingers. “What if he doesn’t like me?” she asked. “What if he does not want me?”

Kraglin tried to soothe her. “He’ll like you, I promise.” He tried to smile at her, but his heart was beating too fast and his lips kept trembling like he was going to cry.

The boys were piled on Yondu’s bed. Peter’s arms were tight around Yondu’s neck, and the only parts of Yondu that Kraglin could see were the top of his head over the top of Peter’s shoulder and his hands, white knuckle clutching the back of Peter’s shirt.

“You miss us, old man?” Kraglin heard Rocket ask.

There was a raspy laugh, one Kraglin missed so much that his heart ached. He and Mantis hung back cautiously. “Nah. This was like a three-week vacation from you little shits.” But he kept his death grip on Peter’s shirt and Kraglin could see a flash of his eyes as they closed when Groot flung his arms around his neck. Peter shifted, and Yondu opened his eyes, and their gaze met over Peter’s shoulder. “C’mere, baby,” Yondu said, reaching out to him.

Still holding Mantis’s hand, Kraglin walked over and took Yondu’s big, dry hand in his own. Yondu’s face was wan and Kraglin could see there were more facial scars in his already impressive collection. His eyes were sunken and his skin looked like it was stretched too tight over his skull. He was smiling though, as he held Kraglin’s hand and dragged him close, giving him a weak squeeze on the ass before falling back into bed, looking exhausted. “That’s what I missed,” he said with a wink.

Rocket rolled his eyes. “So you missed Mopey McPancakeass over there and not us?”

“Would you miss you?” Yondu asked. He was trying to get comfortable on the bed which seemed a Herculean task with three boys sprawled over him.

“I would,” Peter said. “Our banter, dude. The _shenanigans_.”

Yondu gave up trying to get comfortable and grabbed Kraglin’s wrist to drag him and, by extension Mantis, closer. He frowned and slid a hand up under Kraglin’s shirt and felt his bony side. “You ain’t been eating right,” he chastised, pressing his fingers between each of Kraglin’s ribs like rungs on a ladder. Kraglin wanted to crawl into bed with him and burrow down and never let go. “When I get out of here, I’m gonna go hunting and catch you something nice and fat to feed you good.” Then he seemed to notice Mantis for the first time. “Who’s this?” he asked.

Mantis looked ready to pass out on the spot. Kraglin put his arm around her shoulders. “This is Mantis. She’s one of Ego’s kids.”

“She helped me get out of the ranch when you guys came,” Peter volunteered from where he was plastered to Yondu’s side. “She lived with Ego in the desert and now she lives with us.”

Yondu raised his eyebrows at Peter before looking back at Mantis. “I’m Yondu,” he said after a moment.

“I have heard a lot about you,” Mantis replied. “They have all missed you terribly.”

“They better have,” Yondu grumbled, but he looked pleased.

“Oh, they have. It has been very sad. No one eats or sleeps and we are always afraid that Ego will come back.”

Yondu snorted. “Fat chance of that, unless he’s managed to put his skull back together from where it got bashed in with a rock.”

Mantis looked thoughtful. “Ego often said he could do anything, but I do not think he can do that.” She smiled serenely. “I have been very happy with Peter and Groot and Rocket and Kraglin. Kraglin lets me cut my hair and wear jeans and we listen to X and he takes me to the library and the pawn shop. I have met so many interesting people there. I am glad you bashed in Ego’s head with a rock. 

Yondu ran his thumb up and down the inside of Kraglin’s wrist slowly. “Guess you’ve gotta stay with us then, huh?” he asked her, his mouth quirking up in a smile.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“That could’ve been worse,” Peter announces as they walk out of the office.

“It could’ve been better,” Kraglin counters. “You could have not set Ronan’s backpack on fire.”

“Ms. Rael thought it was funny. She hates Ronan.”

“She called him a prick,” Mantis giggles.

“And we only got two days of detention! That’s cool, right?”

Kraglin throws up his hands. “I guess,” he sighs. He texts Yondu: _met w principal. very cool lady w/ nice hair liked her a lot gave them 2 days detention am going home now to die_

Yondu texts back: _you’re soft_.

Rocket, Groot, Gamora, Nebula and Drax are all waiting for them on the stairs leading to the school’s main entrance. Kraglin sighs again. “Don’t you all have class?” he asks.

“We decided to skip,” Nebula says, slinging her arm around Mantis’s shoulders. Mantis beams and snuggles against her side. Peter tries mimic Nebula’s move and to do the same to Gamora, but she yells in surprise and pushes him off, which makes everyone else howl with laughter, Kraglin included. 

The kids all head off to do god-knows-what and Kraglin doesn’t care as takes off in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot. He sends Peter a text ( _dont set anyones shit on fire for the love of god_ ), shivers and cranks up the heater and his music and sits with the motor running for a few minutes before heading home.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Where’re the kids?” Kraglin breathed as Yondu moved his thigh to press between Kraglin’s legs.

“Gave ‘em some money and told ‘em to go pick up something for dinner.” Yondu was sliding his palms under Kraglin’s shirt, up his chest to pull at his nipple rings. “I said they could get dessert too. They were out the door like a shot.”

Kraglin snorted, grinding down on Yondu’s thigh. “You’re devious.”

It was Yondu’s first day home from the hospital; he spent another ten weeks there after waking up and they finally decided he was well enough to go home. He was under strict orders to take it easy and get plenty of rest, but he refused to stay in bed all day, hobbling around and insisting on surveying the house, barking at Kraglin or Peter whenever he felt something was out of place.

Not even near-disembowelment could hinder Yondu’s indomitable spirit.

Kraglin loved him so much it hurt.

“I’m amazed you didn’t find someone else to take care of you when I was out, sweetheart,” Yondu murmured, laying his hand along Kraglin’s jaw and sliding his tongue in Kraglin’s mouth.

Kraglin smiled and started unbuttoning Yondu’s jeans. “Trust me, I looked but the four kids thing is kind of a turn off,” he teased, dropping to his knees and getting Yondu’s cock out. He could see the end of the scar Ego left peeking out from the hem of Yondu’s shirt and he pressed his lips against it. He spent a moment just nuzzling the inside of Yondu’s thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin there and breathing in his smell, before taking him in his mouth, throat relaxing and cheeks hollowing as he took him as deep as he could go. Yondu’s hands were in Kraglin’s hair instantly, alternately pulling at the fin of his mohawk and petting his scalp, groaning. He reached down with one hand and traced the pad of his thumb over Kraglin’s chapped lower lip where it was stretched around his dick, dragging up and down.

“Glad the kids thing was a turn off,” Yondu said with a breathless laugh, “Would hate to lose you and your mouth.”

With a slurp, Kraglin pulled off, still working Yondu’s dick with his hand, shiny and slick with spit. Yondu was smiling down at him, cupping his chin in his hand and Kraglin sucked Yondu’s thumb into his mouth from where it was pressed against his lower lip. His free hand ran up and down Yondu’s bare thigh, smoothing his palm over the light dusting of hair and squeezing.

Suddenly, Yondu’s grip in Kraglin’s hair tightened and he said, “oh, _fuck_ ” and came all over Kraglin’s face and hair.

Kraglin pulled back, surprised and Yondu slid to the floor, breathless and chuckling. Yondu pulled Kraglin into his lap and licked at his face, scraping the come up with his tongue or fingers and then pushing it into Kraglin’s mouth. Kraglin lapped it up eagerly, sucking on whatever Yondu offered and licking it clean, his heart beating hard in his chest. When he reached down to touch himself, Yondu slapped his hand away. “Not until you’re clean as a whistle,” he said, and licked a stripe up Kraglin’s cheek. 

When he finally deemed Kraglin acceptable, Yondu beat him off, petting him through the aftershocks of his orgasm and nuzzling against his neck.

“I really did miss you,” Yondu said, pressing his forehead against Kraglin’s. “All of you, not just your mouth or these -” and he gave Kraglin’s nipple a vicious twist.

Kraglin tried to smile but his lips trembled and then he felt the dam broke and his face crumpled and he burst into tears.

Yondu was understandably taken aback. “Krag?” he said, awkwardly patting his shoulder. “Krag, what’s wrong? It was a joke, Krag, come on, don’t –”

Kraglin started beating on Yondu’s chest with weak fists. “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he begged, gasping for breath as the sobs were ripped out of him. “Don’t ever – you left me, I didn’t know what to do, you left me and it was me and the kids and I can’t take care of them and you weren’t there and I was scared and alone and I missed you so much and you were dying and I can’t do it without you, I was all alone.” He was well-aware that he looked deranged, bawling with wild eyes, softening dick hanging out of his jeans, jizz clinging to his hair, spit flying and nose running but he kept pounding on Yondu’s chest as he howled in anguish.

Finally, Kraglin wore himself out and Yondu wrapped his arms around his trembling form, tucking his head under his chin. He gently rubbed circles on Kraglin’s back and squeezed the back of his neck. After a long time, he said, “You know, most people relax after sex.”

Wiping his nose, Kraglin let out a snort. “Most people’s husbands don’t go getting themselves nearly gutted,” he pointed out. He pressed himself closer to Yondu, like he could get closer, like he could crawl inside of him. “I’m really pissed at you,” he added weakly.

“I gathered that.”

Kraglin could feel a fresh wave of tears start up and he buried his face in Yondu’s neck, clinging to Yondu’s shirt like it was a lifeline. “I kept thinking you was dead. Every single day, we would think that this was the day that they’d call and say you died and I couldn’t stand it. I thought I was gonna die, too.”

Yondu didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his cheek against Kraglin’s hair and let him cry again.

Twenty minutes later, Kraglin heard the front door bang open followed by Peter yelling that they were back. Kraglin didn’t trust his own voice and he was grateful when Yondu shouted back that they’d be right down. He felt limp and frail, slumped against Yondu’s chest, still grasping his shirt. Yondu stroked his hair. “You ready to go get something to eat?”

Kraglin nodded, but made no move to stand up. “I should probably take a shower.”

“You want me to bring you something?”

“No, I’ll go down.” Yondu’s hand felt good against his scalp. He wanted to stay like this.

Yondu shifted against him. He tilted Kraglin’s chin up with his hand and kissed him, slow and soft. When he broke away, he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I left you.”

Kraglin nodded, wiping at his eyes. He got to his feet, knees trembling and held the wall for support. Yondu stood and gathered him into a bear hug, crushing Kraglin’s face against his neck. He kissed him again before going down the stairs, yelling at Peter for taking too long with the food. Kraglin took his time in the shower and slouched downstairs wearing fresh clothes. Most of the food was gone, but Yondu had saved him a sandwich and they didn’t need to say anything when Yondu handed it to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

The bed dips causing Kraglin to roll from Yondu’s side towards the middle.

Eyes closed, he shifts closer and snuggles against the warm body lying next to him, sprawling across it.

“I was dreaming,” he mumbles.

“Mmm,” Yondu’s voice rumbles in his chest, vibrating against Kraglin’s ear. “About what?” His fingers comb through Kraglin’s hair. He smells good from his shower and his skin is warm.

“I was flying. I could reach down and touch the tops of the trees with my fingers. But I was afraid the wind would blow me away.”

“You’re so thin that it probably would. I dreamed last night that we built this big ol’ raft and just floated away down the river.”

Kraglin smiles. “Would the kids come?" 

“Fuck, no. Peter would set it on fire.” Yondu chuckles and squeezes Kraglin against him. “They could come visit though. Maybe.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Principal’s sexy, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. I feel like she’d make me cry during sex. But she was cool though. She liked Pete for some reason.”

“Thanks for talking to her.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kraglin is already nodding off again, lulled to sleep by the slow beating of Yondu’s heart under his ear, Yondu’s hands on his back.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

Kraglin yawns. “Happy anniversary.”


End file.
